Sulking on Valentine's Day
by deceptive-serenade
Summary: I hate him. He's with my best friend. Albus/OC


**Sulking on Valentine's Day**

I hate him. He's with my best friend.

**(One Shot)**

I hate him.

He's with my best friend. _My best friend. _

I'm pretty sure Amy Cooper is off limits here. But I really don't care at this point.

I'd always thought that Ryan McLaggen was an okay guy. We'd always gotten along, on and off the Quidditch Pitch. Though I heard his father was a little unbearable, Ryan wasn't bossy or egotistical – all that much.

Hey, we're all bound to be a _little _arrogant once in a while.

He didn't really hang out with us all that much. Amy and I have been friends since we were little. Her vacation house is in our neighbourhood, and we spent summers filled with going to the beach, dumping sand on her head, playing pranks on James and hanging out with Rose. I still miss that.

I remember my first words to her. She was asking her parents for a spoon, because she had forgotten her shovel at home, and I eagerly ran up to her, breathlessly saying, "You can have mine!" She broke out into the biggest smile I'd ever seen.

I don't remember when it was that I started noticing the little things about her – how she was so passionate about everything she did, even if it was just a potions assignment (I stink at potions. Must've gotten it from my father) and she _always _had a good thing to say about everyone. Don't even get me started on her looks.

No, seriously – don't. The last time I did that, James dumped me in the snow.

She has brown hair. Let's leave it at that.

We're in our sixth year, and I can honestly say, being her best friend, I still don't know her after all these years. It's almost as if every time I speak to her, she somehow manages to surprise me. I know her traits, but there's no telling what's going on inside that head.

Amy is always doing something, whether it's helping out the house elves, helping Hagrid with the pumpkins (he's getting a little old) or climbing trees (which she tends to do a lot, and drags me with her). She's so amazing, and it's easy to feel inferior.

And she's always laughing, and when she laughs, her eyes sparkle. No, scratch that – she can _smile _and her eyes sparkle, and I can never tear my gaze away. I mean, I know she's not perfect. She pouts when she wants something, and she's had her share in manipulating me. She has a tendency to rant when she's mad – which is rare. Almost unfathomable.

But it's not as much as the thought of Amy crying. That's downright unfeasible.

I've never once seen her cry. Like I mentioned, she's always laughing, always helping people and always joking around. I've never been in her presence without laughing; there has never been an awkward silence with her. Only comfortable silence.

It was just us doing homework when I first realized it. I had just looked up at her for a second and _saw _her: her hair framing her face, her nose practically brushing the parchment and the way she'd glance up and smile once in a while. It was the concentration and determination in her eyes. The eyes of my best friend. I just couldn't help thinking it – _wow, I love her._

I knew it felt right, too. It has never scared me, loving her.

It was so simple and easy. It shouldn't surprise me every time a guy has his eyes on her – but she doesn't fall for it. She always tells me that. Maybe it's to reassure me.

It wouldn't surprise me at all if she knew how I feel. I feel transparent around her, as if she knows exactly what was going through my mind every time I look at her.

That's a reason why I'm glad she's not here right now, at the Three Broomsticks. Here I am, Albus Potter, a son of the saviour of the wizarding world, alone at a table on Valentine's day, sulking away.

It's not the first time I've been angry at her, but it's the first time she's lied to me.

I think.

I just can't help thinking that we made a pact about this at some point. We made a lot of those – staying friends, playing at least one prank on James per summer, telling each other if we had something in our teeth and never, _ever_lying to each other.

I trusted her. I still do. Amy told me she was hanging out with McLaggen because they were in Muggle Studies together. They needed to buy something on the Hogsmeade trip for class.

I would've _still _believed that, if it weren't for them sucking face in the stupid café up the street in this _stupid_ village.

And _Merlin, _if Amy had heard what McLaggen had been saying during Quidditch Practise about his mystery date. It still makes my clench my fists, knowing who he was talking about.

McLaggen still isn't such a bad guy. Locker room talk is inevitable, which is probably why he kept his date a secret. What I don't understand is why Amy kept it a secret from _me_.

Though I still find things surprising about her, I _know _her. She's happy and bubbly, but she gets bad mood swings sometimes. She hates coffee, but wishes tea was stronger. She can't appreciate any sunrise or sunset unless she's up in a tree.

I know that she'd never like a guy like McLaggen.

Merlin, she _lied _to me. I'm _angry_, I'm _furious_, and yet I'm still worried about her. How is that possible? I don't even _know _what love is – I just know that I can sodding _feel _it.

I should be angry. I should be storming up her, wrenching their lips apart and demanding what was going on. I should put down this stupid Butterbeer, stomp through the snow and punch the living daylights out of McLaggen.

That's exactly what I feel like doing. It'll feel _good, _too, my fist colliding with his big, fat head –

"Is anyone sitting here?" I look up to see a red-headed girl around my age, standing on one foot and asking to sit at my table. Feeling resignation, I shake my head. She sits.

Hey, she sort of looks like my sister, Lily – I am putting that thought out my head… _now._

Nope, it's still there.

Bollocks.

"Hey, I'm Tina," she says, smiling. I try not to grimace as I nod, taking another swing of Butterbeer.

"I'm –"

"Albus Severus Potter," she gushes immediately over my voice. "I know, I've read all about your father and how he…"

And _this _is where I tune out.

Have I mentioned I hate my middle name? My first name too, come to think of it.

She really talks a lot, this Tina girl. Animatedly. It doesn't actually seem like she's thinking about what she's saying, you know? She's probably blurting out all this stuff at the top of her head. Amy always says that if someone's doing that, they're probably either really nervous or don't take time to stop and appreciate anything.

Whatever _that _means.

Oh Merlin, I'm comparing Tina to Amy. They're not even _comparable._

"Albus?" My head snaps and she's holding out a piece of parchment and a quill, looking at my expectantly. "Can I have your autograph?"

No. _No. _NO!

"Um, sure," I reply uncomfortably, taking the quill. Someone, please shoot me.

As though my prayers had suddenly been answered, a small arm yanked me from the chair and underneath and the table, and I met a pair of terrified brown eyes I'd know anywhere.

_Amy?_

"Albus?" asks Tina's voice from above, sounding thoroughly confused. "What are you doing?" My eyes widen and I look to my hands, where I'm still holding the girl's quill.

"Just dropped the quill," I call out, looking at Amy and giving her a _what-are-you-doing-here? _look. She gestures towards the door and scurries out from underneath the table as I emerge, holding the quill.

"Sorry," I mumble as I put my quill on the parchment. She suddenly yelps.

"No, wait! Could you make it out to Tina?" I roll my eyes and nod, when she screams again. I glare daggers as she jumps up and down, her eyes glinting in the dim light.

"Could you sign something for my best friend, too? Her name is Anna." I sign her copy as Tina ruffles through her purse, and I wait.

Merlin, that thing is _huge._

"Found it!" she says at last, bringing out another blank piece of parchment. I hastily scrawl my name and she squeezes me, crying happy tears. I wonder what would happen if she met my father.

I practically run out the door as Tina squeals some more. I wince uncomfortably at the cold air and find myself yanked towards the castle by a distraught-looking Amy.

"You took your time," she says in a dangerously calm voice as she pulls me behind her. "Who was that?"

"I dunno, some bird," I reply, distracted. I look around, but McLaggen was nowhere to be seen. Where did he go?

"No girl is just _some bird,_" she replies scathingly, speeding up and tightening her grip on me. "I don't understand how guys can just –" She broke off into mutters.

"Amy, what's going on?" I ask in bewilderment, catching up beside her. She drops my wrist and crosses her arms, cheeks flushed from the cold. Amy storms ahead, thinking I'll follow.

I always do.

I trail a few steps behind her, my confusion and anger becoming a mixed mess of exasperation. I don't know where she's leading me, but at this point, I really don't want to go anywhere.

And suddenly, we're a few steps out of reach of the Whomping Willow, and she strides confidently, right up to the trunk. I'm frozen my tracks of snow, shock stricken across my face.

What in the name of dear Merlin is she _doing_?

I can only watch as she dodges the flailing branches with ease, something I can't even begin to comprehend, and crouches near the trunk. I want to call out as the tree swings her way, but she makes a movement and it freezes.

Only two inches away from her.

She doesn't wait for me. She climbs the tree effortlessly, her brown hair dancing behind her. I stumble across to patch of snow to the tree and cling to the branches for my life.

Finally, I reach the crook of the tree where she's placed herself, arms crossed and defiant. Her breath is the only thing echoing in the night as I sit down in front of her, aching all over.

You'd think I'd be used to all this tree climbing by now…

I look to her face, the moonlight reflecting off it and she closes her eyes, breathing deeply. I remind myself desperately that I'm angry with her, but at this point, it's so difficult.

She's too beautiful for words.

I lean back on the trunk and watch her, waiting. The silence was deafening, but I wasn't going to be the one to break it. Even if, for the first time, it was awkward.

And I had no idea why.

Her breaths came out slowly and evenly, as though she were trying to calm herself from a long run. It's actually a little frightening – Amy has never been anything but cheerful or content, and right now, she looks pissed off.

When she finally answers, it's breathlessly. "I think I'm going to start ranting." I make no sound, but nod my head slightly. She always warns me, and I think it's only happened once before.

Maybe twice?

"Why are we up here?" I ask before I can stop myself. Her eyes soften as she looks fondly at the tree, patting it's trunk a little.

"I like this tree," she says simply. Her reasons are always simple. "Who was the girl?" I exhale exasperatedly, trying not to lose my patience.

"Who was the guy?" I ask her instead, and to my surprise, she nods in defeat.

She takes a deep breath, her chest convulsing. "McLaggen," she starts, and fire shoots in my veins, suddenly fuming again.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I interrupt harshly, and she looks at me in surprise.

"I told you I was going to hang out with him today," she says, momentarily distracted. I narrow my eyes.

"You didn't say you were dating him," I mention softly, playing with the shoelace of my trainers. She brushes this off, seeing this as irrelevant.

"It's _Valentine's Day_," she emphasizes. I shrug, unforgiving.

"So?"

"It doesn't matter," she states disdainfully, brushing hair out of her eyes and hugging her knees to her chest. "I'm done with him."

"What happened?" I asked, rather hopefully, might I add. I feel kind of guilty for that.

"McLaggen happened," she replies darkly, her eyes flashing in anger. "He's absolutely and utterly despicable. I can't believe I considered dating him. I can't believe I went to Hogsmeade with him today!"

Me neither.

"He was my partner in the Life Studies unit in Muggle Studies class," she says, words flowing out of her like a river. "We were paired together, and I really began to trust him. Too quickly." I felt a small blow in my stomach, but ignored it as she went on. "I think I really liked him. He was caring, and a good friend to me."

What am I, a Hippogriff?

"He kept asking me out." She begins to plead, apologetic and ridden with guilt. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I've lied to you so many times and I didn't mean to." She meets my eyes and bore into them. "This was something I wanted to deal with myself."

I exhale, my breath appearing in front of me like mist.

"I finally said yes," she says unnecessarily, "and I was really looking forward to today, but all he wanted to do was show me off. I confronted him, and he started shouting at me."

I want to kill him. _Now._

"I'm a trophy, Al." My head snaps up at the sound of her voice breaking. "He won me." I stare into her watering eyes, feeling helpless – almost as if _I _could cry, just by looking at her.

"I thought it was love," she says, breathing deeper and faster now. "I thought he really cared." I feel the inexplicable urge to hold her as I watch her close her eyes, trying to keep the tears in. "I thought I was smarter than this."

My throat was dry as I reached over, taking her in my arms. I couldn't speak.

Amy doesn't cry. She's never cried. She's the person I am most familiar with. She surprises me unintentionally, even if I know her inside out.

She's my rock.

And yet, here she is, her tears finally slipping down her face and into my jacket, clenching me as though she were missing something deep inside. Something she had probably taken from me.

"I'm so _stupid_," she whispers, and I hold her tighter, clearing my throat.

"You're not," I whisper back, even though I, myself, was wondering how anyone could love Ryan McLaggen.

"I _am_," she insists, sniffing a little. "I'm never doing this again, Al. It's not worth it."

There it was: the question. Was it worth it?

And even though every single part of me was screaming yes, there was something stopping me. Stopping from kissing her, just like every other time I was close enough to try.

I couldn't but wonder if it ever is worth it.

It was just something coming to me all at once – the breakdown of my anger, letting my guard fall the miles below and kissing her. But I can't do it. She was Amy Cooper, my best friend since I was eleven. She's off limits.

Including now, in a state I've never seen her before. Most guys would be delighted if they were in my position, but right now, I would do _anything_ to stop her from crying.

"Did I deserve it, Al?" she asks in a small voice, wiping her eyes. "Did I deserve what I got, for being so unattainable all these years? Was McLaggen right when he said that I deserve to be trophy because I act better than everyone else?"

My jaw drops to the ground. She's got to be _kidding._

And she's not done.

"I deserved it, didn't I? I gave him my heart and he smashed it into a thousand pieces, all scattered on the floor of Madame Puddifoot's, along with _stupid _pink confetti, and it's _lost._ I can't find it anymore!"

She's practically shouting now, acting absolutely ridiculous, and it's okay. I mean, she's my best friend; if she can't be ridiculous with me, who can she be around?

Amy has always taken her heart seriously. She said it was the keeper of her emotions, which to me, sounded outlandish, but that's what Amy likes to think. To have lost her heart is to have lost herself. This is the last thing I'd ever want for her.

I can't find the words to fix this. Oh Merlin, where _are_ they?

"I've never thought I was better than everyone else – I thought it was _polite _to offer help to someone in need. I wanted everyone to be as happy as I am, with a family and _friends_." She looks into my eyes, pleading and hysterical. "Why did he have to take my dignity? What have I ever done?" She shakes in my arms.

I close my eyes and breathe in the chilly air, glad for it's stinging in my nose, glad to feel anything but _this_, like ten thousand knives into my chest – like her tears.

My head is screaming alongside of her sobbing, telling me to back out right now, that regret is the only thing I'll feel if I stay. My brain is telling me to step out of drama, because I've never been used to it and would never find the power to deal with it now.

But everything else – my arms, holding her; my heart, beating so much it hurts; – is in an uproar, a battle, in the middle of my best friend's first heartbreak. Hopefully last. Everything else wants me to take the plunge.

Why am I feeling this way in the first place? Amy is _broken, _and my body is having a fierce, internal combat.

"I'm not a horrible person am I?" I slowly shake my head, feeling stiff and dejected as I look down to her red, damp eyes.

"Then why do I feel so badly?" She leans against me, wiping more tears off of her flushed cheeks. "It hurts so much, Al. The boys in the school talk so _much, _and they thought it was funny to take my heart, too –"

Sometimes you have to go with your instincts.

I cut off her rant and bring her lips up to mine, but instead of settling the raging within, everything catches on fire in contrast to the icy wind around us. My brain shuts off as she slowly kisses me back, her tears coming to a halt. It feels like hours, but I let go, knowing it has only been seconds.

I'm awful. This is my best friend, and I'm taking advantage to her.

So why does it feel so right, kissing her?

I breathe heavily along with her, tightening my grip around her. The war inside me falls into a bottomless pit as I lean my forehead against hers, looking guiltily into her eyes.

Maybe there _aren't_ words to fix this – but I can try, right?

"You can have mine," I breathe, her tears staining my cheeks. "My heart, I mean."

She wriggles against me, but I don't let go. I _can't_ let go. I'm in too deep.

"It's okay," she answers softly, her breath tickling my face. "I guess he didn't take it – I can still feel it." Her eyes meet mine. "Since when?"

I shrugged, smiling a little. "Always."

Love is blind. I guess you just have to go along with it – it may know what's best.

Then suddenly, the Whomping Willow wishes us a Happy Valentine's Day by reuniting with its one true love – _privacy. _We belly-flop into the snow, and I hear Amy giggle from beside me.

My best friend is back – and so much more.


End file.
